Amsterdam To Ambala. ✈ ✔

Chapter III

III - Homesickness.

Playlist - Kar Gyi Chull.

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"Dad, how do I tell them to stop in Hindi?" Aman managed to speak out despite his mouth being filled with several delicacies and specialities of Punjab. It seemed like he was about to pass out soon due to the amount of food he had been eating since past one hour. The lassi and parathas didn't seem to stop anytime soon.

His dad just chuckled in return at his miserable state and continued to laugh out loudly with his old friends in their gossips.

"Aunty, please. I'm full. It's enough." He pleaded to Tisha's mom who was busy in feeding him forcefully.

"Abhi se full? Abhi to apke liye halwa bhi banwaya hai." [You're already done. There's still a dessert waiting for you.]

Aman looked at her, horrified. He was in no mood for all this. It seemed like he was tied to his chair with some ropes and the kidnapper was torturing him by feeding him all the time.

"Tisha!" Her mom called her out to tell her to bring the dessert. Aman understood the signal at once. He had never been more terrified at a name being called. He got up abruptly from the dining table and called his dad.

"Roy, it's an emergency." He spoke and signalled him with his eyes to come to his room as he literally ran upstairs without looking back even once. He was scared to look back as if someone would again catch him and start feeding him again. He had never loathed food this much as of now.

"Eat, Eat, Eat. Eat this. Eat that. To hell with your diet plan and to hell with being healthy. Eat and sleep and repeat." He muttered under his breath as he paced around his room fuming with anger.

Tisha standing with the dessert dish at the corner was enjoying all this very much and she found him cute when he was worked up. A light bulb glowed in her head and she laughed to herself.

Foreign boy, you are so gonna love this. Let the game begin.

Tisha Singh was nothing like what you'd expect an ordinary desi girl to be. Infact, she was everything that you'd expect a boy to be. If somebody was in need of help anywhere around, Tisha singh was always ready with her bike, jeep or even tractor depending on the type of emergency. She was full of energy all the time and she loved irritating people. She was involved in all manly works and was a true representative of the feminists. If it wasn't for her looks, nobody would have believed that she was a girl. Hazel eyes and chest length brunette hair complimented with a wheatish complexion was what made her attractive to the eye at the first sight. She was a complete chatter box who always had something to talk about and one could never be bored in her presence. She was the most cheerful and happy person one could encounter with. If you're sad, just go and sit with her. She won't ask what your problem is. She won't give you false hopes. She won't tell you that it will be okay but she will always be there for you, cheering you up and brightening up your day. A risk taker she was, who loved adventures more than routine. And that's what made her a complete package despite the many flaws that she possessed. But nobody is perfect in the end and that was exactly what Tisha was. Perfectly imperfect.

In the meanwhile, Aman was joined by his father in his room.

"What the hell is this, Roy?" He shouted.

"This is a room." He replied.

"No time for jokes. Pack your bags. I am not gonna stay here anymore. This place sucks already. Let's go from here." He spoke in finality.